Dentist
by blindkitten
Summary: While hunting the spirit of a dentist in his abandoned, rat infested office, Dean gets attacked and drugged out. Sam comes to the rescue.


_Hello, ladies and gents! I have had this brilliant idea and I am willing to share it with you, even though I must walk barefooted over very, very hot ground to turn on the internets every hour. Therefore, you must enjoy it to compensate for my pain._

_Just kidding, you don't have to, but I hope you do anyway._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I am only borrowing them to put them through more misery._

Sam can hear his brother hissing behind him, quivering with jumpiness, and he's trying really, really, really hard not to giggle. Dean mutters something unintelligible at a random corner of the room. "What was that, Dean?" he asks, feigning innocence.

"I hate rats," Dean mutters petulantly.

"I thought you hated dentists," Sam says, turning away to hide his grin.

"I have a gun, Sam," Dean growls back, and Sam finally allows himself a smothered little giggle.

"Don't want to waste any bullets on me. Save it for all the rats."

"Sam."

Sam gives a cheeky grin to his brother. Then, he nods at the doors in front of him. One door heads to the hallway, the other to what was once a dentist's lobby. "We need to split up," he tells Dean.

Dean shuddered. "Fine," he muttered darkly. "I'll take the hallway."

He stormed off, jumping at a rat that crossed his path, leaving the door open behind him. Went to search the lobby. He doubted he would find anything there. While it was rumored that the body of the dentist haunting the town was buried in his old, now abandoned office, Sam doubted it was really true – and if it was, it probably wouldn't be in the more open lobby.

It was honestly a mystery why the ghost even came back (he was fairly sure it wasn't Dean's hypothesis that the pure evil of dentistry had brought him back.) and this hunt had honestly just been baffling from start to finish.

There was a clattering sound in the back room, then a gunshot. "Dean?" Sam called. Squirm as he might, Dean wasn't so scared of rats that he'd actually shoot one with rock salt. He moved towards the door, ready to find his brother, but the door swung shut in his face. "Dean!" He tried to open the door, but it was useless. Throwing himself against the door was the same. He was shut out from his brother, who was in trouble. "Dean!"

-X-

Dean walked down the hallway. Even with years of decay, the walls still spoke of an eerie white that he hated in hospitals, clinics and dentist's offices alike. He shivered. He had a bad experience with a dentist once, not really at the fault of the dentist, that had ended with a hook stuck through his bottom lip. It had been humiliating overall, and since then, millions of forced visits had frazzled his patience with dentists entirely.

Then add the rats, and Dean was not enjoying this day at all.

He peeked into a room, seeing several tanks of something. He bent down, surveying them. "Ether," he muttered. "Someone forgot to get up to speed with the times."

The temperature suddenly dipped, and he tightened his grip on the gun, turning slowly. "Come on, fugly, I've been dying to shoot a dentist since I was ten." The hair on the back of his neck prickled, but no ghost showed itself.

He crawled forward carefully, looking around warily. He just barely had time to register the hand out of the corner of his eye when it clamped on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine, and threw him into the tanks of ether. Not waiting to get a clear view, he shot at the ghost. The shot must have missed, because he didn't even have a second to breath before the spirit was on top of him, surprising him enough that the spirit could fling the gun from his hand.

He struggled, reaching for the gun, but something suddenly clamped over his face. He tried to pull away, but whatever it was, it was pressing hard into his nose, immobilizing his head. A strange smell pervaded his senses. He froze, stopping his breathing quickly as he realized what it was. A mask. A mask pumping ether into him.

Holding his breath, he renewed his struggle, kicking his legs wildly, though it was useless, his hands searching for something to rescue him, his gun or something iron. His lungs burned with the need to breathe, and he was starting to see dots with breathlessness. His throat lurched in an impulsive need for air, bringing in dizzying amounts of ether. "Ssss'mmm…" he moaned, realizing that was his only hope. His vision was swimming and growing black, his kicks fading into faint twitches of his legs.

The ghost leaned over him, smiling. "Now then," he said, all professionalism. "Let's get started."

The small legs of a rat crawled over his leg and he jerked with the last of his energy, too drugged to cry out in panic. Everything felt like falling, like all his parts had fallen apart and were drifting through nothing separately. "S'm," he mumbled again, tumbling into oblivion.

-X-

The receptionist window was not made to fit a six foot seven, well built person. As a matter of fact, it was probably not meant to fit anyone, especially not Sam. But that didn't stop him. He was probably going to have bruises all over his entire body, but he had damn well gotten past the locked door. He rushed to find Dean.

When he finally did, his heart stopped. He recognized his brother's boots and torn jeans, but besides his legs, all that was visible was his hand. The spirit was leaning over him, lab coat clad and holding a glinting scalpel over his brother, who was not moving, not struggling. Not even his fingers were twitching. Two rats and a dentist were on top of Dean, and he _wasn't even moving._

Two rounds of rock salt were gone in a blink, and the ghost was gone. Sam rushed to Dean's side, eyes scanning for damage. He noticed the mask clamped over Dean's face and tore it away with haste. "Dean?" he asked, patting his brother's face worriedly. "Dean!"

Dean didn't move, and Sam placed panicked fingers on his throat. The pulse was weaker than usual, but decidedly there. "Oh, thank God," he gasped, pulling Dean into his arms. The rats crawling on his legs moved, and Dean flinched in his drugged sleep, mumbling faint nothings. Sam brushed the rats off quickly, hauling his brother on top of a crate where he was slightly more guarded. He looked around. If this was where Dean had been attacked, it might be where the body was too. Indeed, there was a tuft of hair in the wall.

He moved quickly there, kicking in the plaster with ease. A decayed body fell out, scattering dust and rats everywhere. It was a good thing Dean was unconscious, because if Sam was ready to vomit at the sight of where the rats were crawling out from, Dean would have probably freaked. Sam was just glad that the body was actually there.

He poured the salt and lighter fluid onto the body, before suddenly recalling the familiar smell. "Ether," he whispered, stomach churning with the knowledge that he could have just sent his brother up in flames. Dean was close to the matches and had his lungs and the air around him full of flammable substance. Whether that was enough to light him up, Sam didn't know and he didn't want to find out.

He dragged Dean into the hallway, still frightened that Dean didn't offer any resistance. He wondered how much ether Dean had gotten before Sam had gotten there. How much ether did it take to overdose? Was it even possible to overdose? Honestly, Sam knew nothing about the substance, not even how long it had been out of use.

He went back to burn the bones, checking to see that they had lit up properly before going out into the hallway. Dean was marginally awake, if having your eyes a crack open while you whimpered and uselessly tried to bat away rats counted as awake. Sam hurried to him, shooing the rats away and gathering Dean into his arms. "Shh, Dean, it's OK, I'm here."

"S'mmmm," Dean mumbled, and Sam wasn't sure if he'd just extended his name or slurred some other words into the end of it. Dean's hand flopped uselessly against his jacket, his head buried in the crook of Sam's arm. "Mmm'r'sss."

"Rats?" Sam guessed. "Don't worry about the rats, I won't let them get you, I promise."

Dean relaxed, and Sam was comforted by the thought that Dean at least recognized him. He lifted his brother into his arms, trying to give him more comfort even though this way, his brother's weight almost brought him to his knees. It was a miracle that he even made it to the Impala, or that he had the muscle control left to lay his brother into the passenger seat without beating his head into the roof of the car and then drive him to the motel.

At least by then, Dean had woken up enough to help a little with walking in. Sam was almost carrying him anyway, but Dean lent a little balance and effort. "W'r we?" he mumbled, blinking owlishly.

"Just keep walking, Dean."

"M'tel?"

"Yes, Dean. Move your left leg now."

"H'wd we get t'm'tel?" Dean stopped to rub at his eyes, looking startled when he managed to clock himself in the nose instead.

Sam would laugh later, because now he was just plain frustrated, no matter how blank and adorable Dean looked. "Right foot now, Dean."

Dean looked down, as if he was shocked that he had a right foot, then swept it around, almost kicking Sam. Dean stared, amazed, then looked up at Sam, the walking continuing automatically for a stretch. Sam reached out his hand to open the door. Thank goodness for long arms. Dean slumped against him entirely, so Sam swept him up into his arms for a moment, almost crashing to the ground, then dumped him into bed.

Dean looked at him, looking queasy. "S'ck, S'm," he managed, and Sam barely swept the trash can up in front of him before Dean vomited. When he was done, he whimpered and swayed forward, Sam barely catching him. "D'nnnn feel so g'd."

"I know, Dean," Sam said, patting his brother on the cheek. "I can see that."

Dean moaned quietly. "Rats," he whispered, hands reaching down to his legs. Sam stopped him, gently taking his hands into his own bigger ones.

"Shh, Dean," he whispered. "There's no rats. The spirit is gone, you're out, you're safe."

Dean struggled to focus on him, dipping forward so his forehead touched Sam's. It was clearly not his intention, because he looked baffled at why Sam was so close. Sam stifled a giggle. Clearly giving up on focusing his eyes, Dean nodded, blinking and looking hurt as Sam's hair got into his eyes. "OK," he managed.

Sam gently peeled off his jacket, pushing him back onto the bed. He took off his brother's shoes and jeans, then tucked him under the covers. Dean muttered something about laughing, then fell asleep. Sam snorted at him, shaking his head, then went to research ether. Nothing seemed especially out of place, so he went to bed, letting Dean sleep.

He woke up before Dean, which wasn't unusual. He showered, but didn't want to go out to get breakfast. It was good that he didn't, because Dean woke in a panicked flurry, flailing everywhere, crying out incoherent sentences about rats and dentists and a lot of 'gerroff, gerroff!' Sam leaped to his side, trying to catch the flying missiles that had replaced his brother's limbs. "Dean!" he cried, trying to get through to his brother. "Dean!"

Dean stopped, blinking at his brother, confused. "Sam?"

"No, Dean, the Easter bunny."

Dean relaxed. "Man, I told you dentists were evil," he said, and Sam could tell that it wouldn't be much fun when his next check up came around.

_Anddddd… yeah. Fin. Review!_


End file.
